


Tales from the Night Court

by bioticblackops



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-09-07 17:38:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8809933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioticblackops/pseuds/bioticblackops
Summary: A collection for all my prompt drabbles that are too short to warrant their own story. Will update the tags and the rating as we go along.





	1. Illyrian

"Wait a minute. Are you jealous?!" 

Feyre couldn't help it, her whole face split in a grin. She couldn't believe this was happening. 

Rhys just huffed, not even looking at her but instead burying his nose deeper into the book he was reading. She could swear she saw a hint of red coloring his cheeks, confirming her claim. 

"Don't be ridiculous, Feyre darling. Of course not." 

Oh, this was priceless. Her mate sure as hell was jealous. Feyre bit her lip, trying to keep the laughter in but the way Rhys' jaw clenched told her he was feeling her amusement over the bond. His own feelings were locked away tightly but she didn't need to feel them to know they were there, precisely because he'd locked her out. He knew he was acting ridiculous but it seemed he could do nothing against it. So Feyre decided to add a bit of fuel to the fire. 

She lifted the tiny reason her mate was acting so absurd and whispered into its ear "Do you see that, Illyrian? The big grumpy High Lord of the Night Court is jealous of you." 

Rhys' head snapped towards her, his face a mixture of horror and disbelief. 

"You will NOT name that thing Illyrian!" 

"Why not? He has black hair and is proud and stubborn just like all the Illyrians I know. A lot better behaved, though." 

"We are NOT keeping that thing!" 

"It's not a thing, Rhys. Illyrian is a cat. And what a cute little kitty you are," she purred at the kitten. Illyiran meowed from his new spot on her lap, purring back as she scratched his head. 

"You are just jealous you're not the only male in the house being petted anymore." 

"I am not jealous! Especially not of that ... thing." 

"What exactly do you have against cats, Rhysand?" 

He just glared at her. Feyre rolled her eyes and got up from her chair to cross the room and walk towards her mate, Illyrian the kitten pressed against her chest. Rhys followed her every movement, eyes fixated on the tiny creature in her arms. Without much fanfare, Feyre picked the book from his hands and settled in her High Lord's lap. As if they had a mind of their own, his hands settled on her hip, holding her in place. Feyre leant forward, her lips brushing over Rhys'. 

"Don't worry," she whispered against them. "You will still always be my favorite Illyrian." 

"Half-Illyrian," he grumbled but let her deepen the kiss anyway. 

Feyre could feel him relax against her and for a moment, she was sure she had won. That was, until Rhys suddenly jumped up, having her almost fall to the floor with a yelp while Illyrian hissed. 

"What the hell, Rhys?!" 

"That ... thing tried to claw my wings!" 

For a second she could do nothing but stare at him. 

"It's a kitten, Rhys! He hardly has claws!" 

"It is evil!" 

Illyrian hissed again. Oh, this was so not helping. 

"Rhys-" 

"No, Feyre, no. I will not have that ... that evil creature in this house, anywhere near my wings! Get rid of it! Give it to Amren so she can eat it for all I care!" 

And with that, the High Lord of the Night Court stormed off, leaving his incredulous mate behind. Illyrian meowed and started purring again. Feyre looked down at the small black cat. 

"Illyrians," she told him. "Are such sensitive babies when it comes to their wings. But don't worry, small one. Our High Lord is just jealous. I make sure to pet him properly tonight and pay special attention to his wings so he doesn't feel so threatened by you anymore." 

Illyrian just meowed again.


	2. Your Fault

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: It's all your fault for feysand please:)

The silence was deafening. An endless void filled the place his mate usually occupied, leaving nothing but a vast emptiness. Silence so overpowering it threatened to choke him. No sound came from her, no hint of a feeling. Nothing. It was as if she wasn't there at all. As if she didn't exist, had been nothing but a desperate dream of a desperate male longing for something he knew he didn't deserve. 

In his darkest moments, Rhys wondered if Feyre truly existed. He knew it was ridiculous and yet ... and yet. The bond had been so silent over the last couple of weeks, hardly a word from the other end. She was shielding so perfectly she was nothing more than a ghost in the dark corners of his soul instead of the vibrant, colorful thunderstorm of beauty and emotions that usually was such a huge part of him. The thought terrified him. It had taken her so long to come back from the nothing Tamlin had shoved her into. The idea he'd manage to do so again made Rhys want to say to hell with their plans and go to the Spring Court and get her. To tear apart this foul, wretched place of light and lies the way it deserved to be. Only his promises kept him where he was, protecting not only their home but also her sisters. 

A weight settled in Rhys' gut whenever he thought about the Archeron sisters currently residing in the House of Wind, hiding from the world. He visited them less frequently than he should. The guilt he felt when they were near was overpowering. It was his fault they were here, among creatures they hated, re-made into something they hated. It was his fault. Of course, it was. 

He should have been more prepared. He should have protected them better, all of them. His mate, taken away into a court that nearly destroyed her. His brothers, gravely injured. His mate's sisters, shaped into something they never wanted to be. For all his planning and scheming, he'd gambled too high. Almost lost too much. Hadn't it been for Feyre, they'd lost everything. And it was his fault. 

Rhys knew because Feyre told him so. Night after night after night. He woke up long before dawn with her voice echoing through his mind, so alive and vivid he couldn't convince himself they truly were just dreams. 

"It's all your fault."

Words like ash arrows, ripping him apart. Every night. Every waking moment. They threatened to shatter him. It was the only thing he'd heard from her in so long. The words had become living creatures, clawing their way into his heart. 

"It's all your fault." 

He'd heard the words so often he wasn't sure anymore if it wasn't indeed his mate speaking to him instead of an echo of her in the shadows of his mind. His mate could be cruel when hurt and cornered. Crueller even when someone hurt who she considered hers. And people she considered hers were hurt. Because of him. Because he hadn't been strong enough, fast enough, smart enough. Enough. 

It was his fault. And while Cassian and Azriel might be healed, her sisters weren't. He was reminded of it, of his failure, every time he saw them. Every time Nesta hissed at him or ignored him. Every time Elain looked through him when he stood right in front of her. His fault, his failure. He was well aware even without the memory of Feyre's voice haunting him. 

So Rhys vowed to do better. It was all he could do. Do better and make sure he would never fail them like this again. His brothers, his family, his mate. Never again. 

So Rhys went to work, all the while listening to those damning words rattling through his mind, making sure there never was another reason for her to say them. 

"It's all your fault." 

Yes. But never again.


End file.
